


How To Seduce A Perfect Stranger

by ItsTeatimeSomewhere



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexuality, Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsTeatimeSomewhere/pseuds/ItsTeatimeSomewhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in six movements.</p>
<p>Enjolras likes the mysterious boy, Grantaire fears his flaws. Marius stutters over every word, Courfeyrac wants to be more than sex. Eponine and Jehan just need to keep everyone together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Seduce A Perfect Stranger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KiwiBerry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiBerry/gifts).



> A little AU for the Miserable Holidays gift exchange. I wrote this in math class. For KiwiBerry (thanks for giving me such a lovely prompt, dear.)

**I.**

It was just a lecture hall. Nothing interesting, just bland walls and a bland teacher with a bland lecture about philosophy. Enjolras didn't even like philosophy. It was useless to simply imagine a better world or imagine human nature, you had to do something. He sat in the back, taking notes and trying not to fall asleep. The professor was discussing some Wittgenstein quote when the door behind him slammed open and a blustery air was brought in. Enjolras turned to see who had disturbed the lecture and who he could yell at, and was met with the face of a beautiful boy. Curly brown hair, ruddy cheeks, and the brightest green eyes he had ever seen. He was bundled up in a big, brown coat and scarf that matched his eyes to perfection. He coughed at looked at Enjolras, eyebrow pulling up onto his forehead. Realizing he was staring, Enjolras blushed and turned back around. Now he had missed part of the lecture, great. And the professor had said logical positivism would be a major part of the exam.

"Is this seat taken?" he heard from behind him, and all thought of failing the class were thrown out of his head because damn if that wasn't the most attractive voice he had ever heard. It was gruff and gravelly and deep and accented and so fantastic and Enjolras had probably been staring at him for a few minutes and probably needed to answer his question.

"Uh, of course not. I mean, it will be when you sit down, b-but not that you have to sit down I mean no one is sitting there right now and-" Enjolras needed to stop talking. What was wrong with him?

The man flashed him a smile. “Thanks, love."

And oh god he had called him love what did that mean. Enjolras took a deep breath and smiled back at the man. Then, deciding he had spent enough time gazing at his glorious features, he turned away and began to write. He was totally concentrated on Wittgenstein when the professor asked some dull question, not expecting anyone to answer because it was late and people were tired. What Enjolras didn't expect was a scoff from the boy next to him, matched with the muttered: "you really expect me to believe that?"

The question was something about the meaning of life; whether life meant anything at all.

"What do you mean by that?" Enjolras whispered back.

"Does he seriously expect us to just take that idea and roll with it? That life is worth anything at all? Yeah, right." It was sarcastic and flippant and made Enjolras want to tear his hair out.

"Of course life matters. It matters for the future!" Enjolras tried to keep his voice low, and succeeded, for the most part.

"You want to tell me that, in thirty years, the sandwich I ate for lunch will matter? The fact that I went to university will change everything? What's to stop me from just slacking off forever?"

"Each person impacts someone else, regardless how little it changes you. The chain reaction will impact the world and the future depends on you!"

"Me? Personally? Well then the future is going to be an abysmal place, let me tell you.”

Enjolras was about to retort, but the professor had stopped speaking and was glaring at them. Apparently their whispers had suddenly become...shouts. As he moved to pay more attention, the man touched his shoulder.

“Don’t think you’re just going to let this argument go, darling.” He grabbed his coat and stood up. “Lunch is on me.”

Against all instinct, including passing the class, Enjolras followed. Once outside the lecture hall, he continued to argue with the man, following him down the blustery street to a small cafe. Once the argument about the meaning of life puttered out, Enjolras made some remark on the capitalistic hellscape that was the cafe which birthed yet another argument, this time filled with quotes from Marx and Adam Smith.

It had only felt like minutes, yet soon the sun was setting and the man standing up.

“Well this has been fun, but I have work to do.” He flashed Enjolras a smile. “See you in class!”

“Can I have your number?” Enjolras blurted out as the man began to walk towards the door. He felt blood rushing to his face as he realized how eager he sounded. The man didn’t seem to mind, though, as he just grinned and scrawled some numbers on a napkin.

“Well maybe I’ll see you before class,” he said with a wink, leaving a shell-shocked Enjolras in his wake.

And now Enjolras had the phone number of a charming and cynical and beautiful man and what was he even doing with his life.

**II.**

Courfeyrac wasn’t the type of person to care about what people said. Of course, working at a cafe one tended to hear a lot of gossip and snide remarks. He also saw dates fall apart and couples reunite, sometimes with laughter, sometimes with tears. He knew what people thought about them, and it didn’t matter a bit.

At all.

Sure, he liked a pretty face and he liked cute boys and cute girls and cute people, but he wasn’t everything they thought he was. He wasn’t a _slut_.

So when cute boys would come up to him and ask for his number, he knew it wasn’t because they wanted his recipe for croque monsieur. When cute girls would glare at him and whisper in the ears of their friends, he knew it wasn’t because he had flour on his nose.

But he was okay. He had good friends and yummy food and didn’t need someone who just wanted his (admittedly quite cute) dick.

That is, until the most incredibly cute person walked through the door. Seriously. He made everyone else look dull. With his freckles and fluffy hair and smiling eyes and winding scarf and floppy shoes, Courfeyrac wanted to hug him forever.

And then he went flying to the ground, foot tripping over foot.

“Oh my God!” Courfeyrac gasped, sliding from around the counter. “Are you okay?”

The boy just laughed, face turning red as he took Courfeyrac’s offered hand. “Sorry about that, happens a lot.”

“As long as you’re okay,” Courfeyrac grinned. He was holding his hand. Sure, it was to help him up but the point still stands.

Once the boy was standing, both realized they were still holding hands and quickly broke apart, the boy blushing furiously. “U-uh I’d like a coffee. Um. Please.”

Courfeyrac just nodded, grinning and bounding back to the counter. “Of course! Anything else?”

“You’re number?” The boy smiled up briefly before looking back down at his shoes. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so inappropriate. Ignore me, please.”

Well, this was new. “Uh, no, it’s okay. Um, there’s been worse.” Courfeyrac smiled and poured a cup of coffee. The boy didn’t say anything as Courfeyrac rang him up, handing him a credit card. In a moment of bravery, Courfeyrac wrote his number on the receipt. This boy didn’t seem lewd like the others. Maybe he would be different.

“I’m Courfeyrac, by the way,” he said quietly.

The boy looked at the receipt and his eyes flew wide open. “O-oh. Thanks! Um, I’m Marius. I-um, wow. I-I’ll call you?”

Courfeyrac just nodded.

“Um, bye.” Marius waved as he walked backwards towards the door, tripping over the welcome mat and two chairs on his way out.

“Bye,” Courfeyrac breathed.

**III.**

Jehan loved romance. It was cliché, but beautiful. He loved sitting in Courfeyrac’s cafe and seeing couples walk by or order for each other or argue over the bill or just smile. He liked listening to Grantaire’s stories about his travels and the proposals under the Eiffel Tower or on the London Eye or on a beach in Barcelona. Grantaire thought it was cheesy as all hell, but Jehan thought it was perfect.

And when Grantaire couldn’t shut up about this idealistic man with a halo of golden hair and the most beautiful lips on the planet, Jehan couldn’t’ stop listening. Grantaire told him about their arguments while petting Jehan’s hair, sticking it up into little red spikes like flames as they lounged on the couch.

“--And I don’t even know his name! I just...he’s so passionate, Jehan! God, what he must be like in bed.”

Jehan just giggled. Grantaire eyes hadn’t sparkled in years.

And then Courfeyrac had come in and they had all piled together to gush about their crushes and Jehan was surrounded by love and happiness and this was better than anything he had seen in movies or books or cafes.

Soon, the texting began and never seemed to stop. In another life, Jehan might have been jealous that he was missing out on all the love, but he had never felt fuller with joy. You didn’t need love when you were surrounded by it every day.

The dates soon began, and Jehan would get phone calls from bathroom stalls, Grantaire asking him what to say when Enjolras starts speaking perfect Italian; Courfeyrac wondering if it was bad if Marius was bleeding profusely after knocking his head on the taxi door. He took it all in stride, being showered in kisses and hugs when his friends returned.

If only it was always like this.

**IV.**

Perfection is relative, and victory is fleeting. Enjolras had fucked up, and now he had nothing. It had been one text, and it had all fallen apart.

_Maybe if you weren’t drunk all the time you would understand._

And then Grantaire had stopped texting him. And then he didn’t answer his calls. He didn’t come to the cafe or sit on Enjolras’ couch or smile or laugh and Enjolras was sad.

He had fucked up and he couldn’t take it back because he knew nothing about Grantaire except his name. He didn’t even know if it was his first or last name.

He didn’t even mean it! Grantaire had told him about his past with alcoholism as they were cuddled on the couch one night, and now Enjolras was using it against him. What a horrible person he was. Enjolras wouldn’t want to talk to himself either.

He was stranded, with no one to hold on to. Combeferre could help, but he was somewhere doing something charitable for the year. Of course, the one time Enjolras would fall in love-

Oh God he was in love.

**Courfeyrac:**

Suddenly one date became three which became six and Courfeyrac had managed to get into a relationship. Marius was giggly and cute and dorky and everything Courfeyrac loved, and they hadn’t even kissed.

They hadn’t had sex. Marius hadn’t even mentioned it.

That was when Courfeyrac realized something was wrong. Marius didn’t want him. Or he was hiding something (a secret boyfriend? a secret girlfriend? A wife?) Or maybe he was waiting for Courfeyrac to let his guard down and he would drop the cutesy act and try to fuck him. What would happen then? Would Courfeyrac say no? Would he say yes to appease Marius? Would Maris only like him for the sex?

Courfeyrac’s breaths began to quicken and he sat down behind the counter of the cafe, ignoring the customers probably walking through the door.

What would he do? Confront Marius, let it go? Ignore him until he decided it wasn’t worth it? Just fuck him and get it over with?

Shaking fingers typed Jehan’s number and he waited for him to pick up, hoping he would be able to explain everything.

V.

Eponine had just wanted a night in. Instead he got a sobbing mess of Grantaire, something about blonde angels, and no alcohol.

“He doesn’t even want me, Ep! He thinks I’m an alcoholic and I don’t know why I even thought it would work I mean who would even want someone like me?”

Eponine groaned and pulled out her phone.

“Jehan, Grantaire’s being morbid again. Want to give me a hand?”

“I’ve got a panicky Courfeyrac, Ep, apparently his date only wanted him for sex although I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

“Oh Marius? Dude, that kid wants sex about as much as I want dick. Seriously, get Fey to talk to him and he’ll see how messed up that thought is. Good lord, our friends are idiots.”

“True that. Why is Grantaire morbid?”

“Enjolras called him an alcoholic.”

“Oh fuck no. Call him and have him explain. This cannot be real life. They were supposed to get married and Grantaire would be happy and not cynical and Eponine what do we do!”

“Calm down, Jehan, I can’t have you flipping out too. I’ll call the guy, maybe he can explain.”

She heard Jehan sigh and Courfeyrac wail something in the backgrounds. “Sounds good. Let me deal with this and hopefully all will be better by morning.”

Eponine smiled and Jehan’s optimism, grabbing Grantaire’s phone from his pocket. The poor man was almost asleep, still letting out sad little sobs every now and then.

As she pulled Enjolras’ number from the phone, he picked up on the first ring.

“Grantaire? OH my God Grantaire I am so sorry why are you calling now? You have to let me explain I don’t know what I was thinking and I regret that so much and now you left me and are we over? Or can we get back together? Because I miss you oh my God I miss you so much and I really am sorry. So, so sorry, I just-”

“Please shut up.”

“Who are you and why do you have Grantaire’s phone.”

“I’m his friend Eponine and I have his phone because he’s too depressed to hold it.”

“Oh God tell him I’m sorry will you tell him that I-”

“Zip it. I don’t know who you are or what you turned Grantaire into, but you were good to him and then you fucked up.”

“I know I messed up and I am so sorry-”

“What did I say? Now I don’t want to trust you, but he was the happiest he’s ever been while with you. I’ve never made him smile like that and I’ve known him for ten years. If you can fix this, I need you to know that something like this can never happen again. If it does, Grantaire might be even worse.”

“Thank you, thank you so, so much. I won’t let him down. I am so sorry and I’m going to make it up to him. Tell him to meet me at the park at eight tonight? As long as that’s not too presumptuous.”

“Whatever. Just don’t hurt him again or I will tear your balls off.”

“Of course I won’t.”

Eponine hung up, and turned to Grantaire, running a hand through his curls. “Hey, R?”

“Go’way Ep.”

“But you have to get ready for your date tonight.”

Grantaire sat up, bleary eyes giving Eponine a glare. “Don’t rub it in, Eponine. I have no one.”

“Angelo or whatever his name was wants you to meet him at the park at eight. That’s in like two hours and you look like you’ve been crying for three days.”

“I have.”

Eponine rolled her eyes. “Just get dressed, I’m done with mopey Grantaire. I thought he had died a long time ago.”

Grantaire just looked at her. “Are you kidding right now?”

“Of course not. Just...be careful alright?”

Grantaire nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Ep.” He got up and moved towards the bathroom. “But if this messes up, I’m blaming you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As Grantaire left, Eponine pulled out her phone and made a call.

“Marius, I can’t believe you right now.”

**VI.**

Enjolras was nervous. Maybe this wouldn’t work, maybe Grantaire would hate him forever, but it was worth a shot. The lights were in place, the dinner was set up, and shit, it was probably too cheesy. But he couldn’t take it down now, it would look stupid if Grantaire showed up and he was taking something down. But what if Grantaire laughed at him? What would happen then? Would he laugh it off or say something stupid or what?

“Um, Enjolras? Are you okay?”

Enjolras nearly jumped out of his skin. “I-uh, yeah. I’m fine.” He turned to Grantaire, who looked as perfect as ever. “I’m glad you could come.”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Please, sit.” Enjolras motioned to the blanket and grabbed two cans of coke. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Thanks.”

Silence. For way too long. Enjolras began to get antsy, and when he got antsy he began to ramble. “Look, I’m incredibly sorry about the text. I don’t know if you got the texts and calls and voicemails because I know I left a lot of them and I mean who even looks at their voicemails? It’s a thing of the past and the costs that phone companies are paying to keep voicemails in use is outrageous. Those funds could be used to employ better workers, maybe bring jobs back to this country rather than outsourcing them to sweatshops in China! And while we’re on the subject-”

“Enjolras, please shut up,” Grantaire groaned, rubbing his face with his hand.

“I-oh. Sorry. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I got that part. I just don’t know why. I mean, it’s obvious what you think of me, so why keep such a drunken fool around?” He takes a sip of coke, frowning at the blanket.

“You are not a drunken fool! That was a stupid comment said in a moment of weakness because your argument had me cornered! You are one of the most eloquent speakers and your thoughts are so immaculately thought out that I can’t even begin to compare! You take this cynical view of the world, but you make me feel like I need to prove myself to you and show me I can’t rest on my laurels. I feel better around you, and you make me smile and laugh and no one can do that! Not even Combeferre on most days!” He pauses to take a breath, looking directly at Grantaire.

“I think the world of you, Grantaire,” he whispered.

Grantaire is silent. “Do you mean that or are you fucking with me?” he finally mutters, still not looking at Enjolras.

“I have never felt anything more strongly.”

Finally, Grantaire does look up, and Enjolras is met with the shining eyes he loved so much. A laugh bubbles up and Grantaire is smiling and reaches for Enjolras’ hand and it’s a beautiful moment.

When their laughter dies down, Grantaire looks around at the blanket and lights. “Did you plan a cheesy picnic for me? With freaking lights?”

“W-well, I thought romance might show you that I care, so, I guess, yeah?”

Grantaire pecks him on the cheek. “It’s beautiful. But these lights seem like they should be danced under.”

“Are you kidding?” Enjolras grins.

“Of course not!” He pulls himself to his feet and reaches out his hand. “May I have this dance, Enjolras?”

Enjolras simply nods and smiles, and is pulled close to Grantaire, breathing in the cologne which is uniquely him. There was no music, but it was perfect.

**Courfeyrac:**

Courfeyrac was frowning into Jehan’s lavender-scented pillow when the doorbell rang. He didn’t want to see anyone, there was no point. Marius would never like him, so why bother? Ugh, when had he turned into such a sap?

A soft voice came from the door. “Courfeyrac, please let me in?”

Courfeyrac groaned. “Marius, what are you doing here?”

“Um, I came to see you? Eponine said I needed to talk to you and, um, I guess I forgot to tell you some stuff?”

Sighing, Courfeyrac stands up and pulls a blanket around his shoulders. He tries to frown but probably just looks pathetic and walks to the door. “Okay, what do you need,” he says after opening it to find an incredibly fluffy-looking Marius.

“Can you just let me in? It’s kind of complicated.”

Courfeyrac moves aside and Marius settles down on the couch. “The thing is, well, I just...um,”

“Spit it out, Marius,” Courfeyrac says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m asexual.”

“Oh.”

They sit in silence, Courfeyrac’s head reeling. Asexuality? Jehan had told him about it once, explaining the different types when he was on one of his sexuality rants. But what did this mean? Did Marius not want him sexually? Then did Marius not want him at all?

“Are you going to say anything else?” Marius asked nervously, and Courfeyrac realized he had been silent for some time.

“H-how does that affect this?”

“Well, Eponine said you’ve had issues in the past with...sexual encounters I guess? And, like, that you thought I only wanted you for sex, but I don’t? I mean, I’ll have sex with you if you want, I just don’t actively need it, and I like you because you’re Courfeyrac, not because you’re sexy as hell, even though you are.” Marius was blushing by the end of his little speech, and Courfeyrac couldn’t help but grin.

“You like me?”

“Of course I do. D-do you like me?”

Courfeyrac just nodded, moving closer to Marius. “Want to watch a movie with me?” he whispered into the crook of Marius’ neck.

“Sounds great, dear.”

Courfeyrac giggles and they bicker over which movie to watch, although Marius is a total pushover. He still can’t wrap his head around the idea that Marius likes him, but he hopes in the future he will be able to understand. After all, Marius wouldn’t be going anywhere if he had anything to do about it.


End file.
